


december never felt so wrong

by kerrykhat



Category: Spiritwalker Trilogy - Kate Elliott
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerrykhat/pseuds/kerrykhat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More than anything, Bee feels the empty space where Cat used to be. Their lives have been so intertwined that Cat’s sudden absence has thrown her off-balance in the worst way, and she wonders if this is what losing a limb feels like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	december never felt so wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookgazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookgazing/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Kate Elliott owns "The Spiritwalker Trilogy" and all related characters; I own nothing.
> 
> **Author's Notes:** For bookgazing. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, and I originally started off in a different plot but Bee had a mind of her own, and the story followed her lead. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> The title comes from Ingrid Michaelson and Sara Bareilles' "Winter Song".

In the whirlwind that follows Cat’s hurried marriage and equally sudden departure, Bee barely has time to think, let alone ask her parents what occurred below. Between waking and dressing her sisters, saving Uncle Daniel’s book from being burned (Cat can thank her later), and rushing to the harbor to board the sole Kana’ani vessel docked, there’s no opportunity to corner her parents and discover what happened. All she’s left with are questions, an empty wrist, and a Cat-shapped hole beside her.

“What happened?” The question bursts out of her once she and her parents are alone in one of the ship’s cabins. Shiffa is comforting her sisters, and the remaining members of their household are in their own quarters. “Why did Cat have to marry that cold mage? What interest does a mage house have with us? What was in that package you burned?”

Her parents exchange a look, her father’s guilty, her mother’s stony and unmoving.

“We did what we had to do,” her mother finally answers, taking the lead.

“What do you mean?” Bee insisted, resisting the urge to cross her arms and stamp her foot like Astraea did when she was in a temper. Experience has taught her that when her mother is like this, acting like a spoilt child leads to nothing but no supper and an empty stomach.

“It was to protect the family,” her father finally answers, his voice soft and heavy.

Bee stares at her parents, feeling herself grow colder and colder as they explain what happened. Explain how after the fall of Camjiata, Four Moons House had approached them with evidence of the Barahals helping the Iberian Monster during the war. How, in return for withholding the documents, all they required was the eldest Hassi Barahal daughter in return. Beatrice. Not Cat. They had wanted Bee, but instead her parents had substituted Cat. Cat who was no Barahal by blood, but instead kept to offer in Bee’s place if the day ever came that the magisters came to collect.

By the end of the telling, Bee (in what Cat would have remarked as a first were Cat still here and not _gone_ ) is struck dumb, both from surprise and a growing rage.

“How could you?” she finally says when she find her voice. “How could you lie to us about that? How could you betray Cat? Blood or not, she’s family! She was raised to be our family, and you simply cast her out...”

“We had to protect you.” Her mother says that with the sort of finality Bee is all too familiar with. “We weren’t going to hand you to the cold mages.”

Bee raises her chin and glared at her mother in challenge. “And so you sent my cousin in my place.”

“She’s not Daniel’s child, Beatrice,” her father replies, and Bee takes no small pleasure in the heavy guilt in his voice.

“So because she was a Barahal in everything but blood, she didn’t matter,” Bee says quietly, her voice filled with rage. She wants to say more, but she’s too angry to force more words out. In all her life, she couldn’t remember being this furious with anybody, let alone her parents.

Instead of speaking, she turns her back and ignores them until she hears them quietly leave. Only when she’s alone does she indulge in hot, angry tears. How could her parents expect her to forgive them for this? Not just the deception, but the betrayal? How could she ever trust them again?

Because Cat was more than just her cousin (and she would always be her cousin, despite what her parents were telling her). Cat was her sister in everything but name, her best friend, the one person who knew of Bee’s dreams and what they signified. Cat was the one person Bee could always trust, and now she has nobody.

Hastily taking a deep breath and drying her tears, Bee straightens her shoulders and walks towards the door. There’s scarce time until dawn, and she has work to do before then.

By the time the sun peeks over the horizon, the outgoing tide carries the ship out of Adurnam towards Gadir and the Barahal motherhouse.

Bee watches it go from one the pilot skiffs, refusing to feel sad. By the time they discover she’s no longer aboard, it will be too late and there is nothing that her parents can do. She took what she could, stowed in a small bundle beside her, and she left a note purposefully addressed only to her younger sisters, explaining that she stayed behind. If it weren’t for them, she’d be content to have her parents believe she drowned.

“Thank you,” she tells the harbor pilot once they reach the dock. She gives him coin and a kiss on the cheek in payment and smiles prettily at his blush. “Peace be upon you, Maester.”

With that, Bee walks back towards her deserted home, ignoring the sounds of the city coming to life. While Evved, Shiffa, and Cook accompanied the family on the boat, Pompey and Callie were left behind. With any luck, they should still be at the house. She’ll settle with them before seeking help and answers for her questions. That, and discover some way to rescue Cat and right the wrong her parents had inflicted upon her cousin.

Continuing her walk, she half expects to hear familiar footsteps echoing her own.

~*~*~

“Describe the ceremony to me exactly how you saw it.”

From across the desk, the headmaster of the academy leans forward towards Bee. A frown crossed his lined Kushite face as he listened to what she told him of her cousin’s predicament.

Out of all the people she knows, the headmaster is the only one with the knowledge and the connections to possibly help her. As soon as Bee settled with Pompey and sold enough of the items left behind to provide provisions for herself and Callie, she made her way to the academy in order to seek what help she could. The delay of a few days could not be helped. If she was to trade herself for her cousin, it was her duty to ensure that those who relied on her were cared for.

Doing her best, Bee carefully described the binding ceremony she had seen earlier. How the djeli bound Cat and that arrogant looking cold mage, using his magic, a ball of string; and a mirror with her parents and the magister’s servants as witnesses. Although she’d been sent to her room by her father, she snuck back down and watched the scene below.

When she finishes recounting the events, Bee waits for the headmaster’s response and does her best to ignore Bran Cof’s head in the corner of her eye.

He leans back in his chair, his face deep in thought.

“Unfortunately, there is little I can do to help you, Beatrice,” he finally answers, his voice deep and sad. “Under the law, because your cousin is underage, as her guardian your father had the right to dispose of her as he saw fit. Furthermore,” he sighs, “the ceremony you described is a chained marriage. Only death can sever such a binding.”

“Death?” Bee breathes out, filled with a cold sense of dread. “So if Four Moons House discovers they have the wrong Barahal girl... they’ll kill Cat?”

“Yes, I believe they will. Or at least attempt to.” The headmaster chuckles softly. “Your cousin can be as hard to find as her namesake when she wants to be.”

Bee keeps silent, both to keep Cat’s secrets and to process what the older man just told her. Cat is forever bound to that magister, unless one of them perishes first. _Blessed Tanit, protector of women, keep your daughter safe,_ she silently prays, fingering her wrist where her bracelet would normally lie. _Guide her back to me safely. That’s all I ask of you._

“Even if I offer myself in her place and marry another magister, would they still try to kill her?” Bee asks, doing her best to grasp at the smallest of hopes.

“I don’t know, nor do I think it is in your best interests to find out, Beatrice,” the headmaster cautions, slowly standing up. “It will soon be unsafe for you to return to your house, if Four Moons discovers what your parents did. Stay here while I send my assistant to assess the situation.”

So Bee sits and waits for the headmaster’s dog to return and tries to keep herself occupied by sketching whatever comes to mind, no matter how silly. Anything to keep her distracted and to keep from thinking of what the cold mages might do to Cat. It’s not that she doesn’t have faith in her cousin. She does, but the cold mages are more than they’ve ever faced together, and now Cat is facing them by herself. She doesn’t know how her cousin might fare against the weight of a mage house bearing down on her.

Finally, the headmaster, trailed by his dog, returns. “My assistant has been to your house, Beatrice, and it is as I feared. Soldiers bearing the uniform of Four Moons House are guarding it waiting for your return.”

Bee closes her sketchbook and meets his gaze. “What do you recommend?” she asks quietly.

“I contacted somebody who has enough power to potentially counteract the power of the mage house, should they locate you,” the headmaster replies. “I should have his answer shortly if you do not mind waiting.”

“Not at all,” Bee demurred, returning her attention back to her sketchbook, her mind full of questions. Who might this personage be that could counteract the power of a mage house, she wondered silently. The only person in the city who would have that influence would be the prince, but try as she might, she couldn’t picture him stooping to help some poor Kana’ani girl. Not even to spit in the face of one of the mage houses.

She ponders the question until she hears footsteps approach her. Looking up, she sees the headmaster accompanied by somebody whose face she can’t quite see in the shadows. _Were Cat here, she would be able to see,_ Bee thinks quietly, feeling a pang in her chest.

The headmaster smiles and gestures at the person behind him. “I believe you already know Legate Barry.”

Bee bites back a gasp of surprise at the site of Amadou stepping into the room. “ _Legate_?” she asks instead with a raised eyebrow, her mind starting to put the pieces together. If Amadou was indeed a legate of Rome, then that meant two things: the first was that he was most likely older than he appeared. The second was that his enrollment at the school most likely served some Roman purpose.

“Yes, Maestressa,” he answered, at least having the grace to blush at the reveal of his deception. Bee does her best to ignore how handsome he looks, with the faint stain of red coloring his dark cheeks, and focus on the fact that he’s Roman, that he’s not what he claimed to be, that there’s still the matter of Cat and the Mage House. Now is not the time to be charmed, no matter how hard it is.

“As you have probably surmised, Legate Barry is no mere student,” the headmaster continued, a twinkle in his eye. “I explained to him the basics of your situation, and he and his aunt have extended their family’s protection to you. Even a mage house wouldn’t dare cross a member of the Roman nobility.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Maester,” Bee curtseys, trying her best to keep her face blank. _Lies the Romans Told_. It can’t be a coincidence that Cat discovered the book in the headmaster’s library.

“It is the least I could do.”

They quickly turn to discussing the logistics of Bee’s move to the house of Amadou’s aunt. The headmaster promises to station his dog near her house to ensure Callie remains undisturbed by the mage soldiers, and that he will do his best to deflect attention should they question him.

It’s not until matters are mostly settled does the headmaster strike. “Beatrice, I couldn’t help but notice that after I spoke with you and your cousin, your sketchbook as well as a tome written by your uncle that Legate Barry lent me were missing. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

She blushes, not quite an act with the way Amadou is looking at her. “I couldn’t bear to be parted with my sketchbook, for there are notes that I required, and my cousin couldn’t help herself when she spied a book written by her father. You understand, don’t you?”

“What happened to the book?” Amadou asks, a little too eagerly, and the final pieces snap into place. An agent of Rome, enrolled at the same academy as the daughters of a clan of spies, in possession of a codebook written by the same clan? In no way could that be a coincidence.

However angry and betrayed Bee might feel in regards to her parents, she still has loyalty to her clan, as well as a deeply ingrained distrust of Romans and all they stand for.

“They burned it,” Bee lies, schooling her face into an innocent expression that few, other than Cat and her mother, know to be an act.

“That’s a shame,” Amadou mutters, more to himself than her. “There aren’t many copies of that book in existence anymore.” He doesn’t question her any further regarding the codebook, and they soon after take their leave of the headmaster.

She’s not surprised they take her statement at face value. Bee’s used to people underestimating her. They see her dimples and curves and curls, and they write her off. Let them. She’s a trained Hassi Barahal. She can handle herself without Cat beside her, be it with words or swords. Just because she can doesn’t mean she likes or wants to grow used to it. Despite what some may think, however, Bee can be practical. She’ll mourn, but work with what she has. That’s how the Hassi Barahals always are.

(Maybe she’s more similar to her parents than she wants to admit, even in the darkness of her borrowed room.)

~*~*~

The month passes slowly. Amadou’s aunt, a formidable woman of noble Mande descent, is condescendingly kind to Bee, as are his sisters. She expects nothing less of a high-ranked family taking in somebody of much lower status than they. She could tolerate that, however. It’s the sensation that’s she’s trapped in a cage, no matter how beautiful and glittering, that’s starting to gnaw on her. Even prowling along the edges of the estate, memorizing its layout, does nothing to stop feeling boxed in and helpless. She can go no further than the edge of the estate, and even then she feels the eyes of the servants on her. Nothing happens in the house without its mistress knowing about it.

More than anything, Bee feels the empty space where Cat used to be. For the first time since her dreams came to her, she has problems sleeping throughout the night, no longer comforted by her cousin laying beside her. She just stares at the darkened ceiling and thinks. For almost as long as she can remember, it’s been “Bee and Cat”, “Cat and Bee”. Their lives have been so intertwined that Cat’s sudden absence has thrown her off-balance in the worst way. Unconsciously, she constantly reaches for a hand that’s always been there and her heart clenches when she remembers that there’s nobody there beside her.

Bee wonders if this is what losing a limb feels like.

Days stretch into weeks. A freak snowstorm blankets the countryside, and Bee instinctively knows that a cold mage is behind it. Adurnam and the surrounding areas remain paralyzed for weeks until the snow mysteriously vanishes.

Bee sketches. She reads. She stares out the window, praying to Tanit that Cat returns to her safely. No one says anything about her situation. It’s like she’s trapped in a sort of limbo waiting for everything to change. Waiting for Cat to return to her, because the more time passes without word, the stronger her belief that her cousin has managed to slip through Four Moons’ fingers.

The only bright spot is Amadou and her daily conversations with him. Despite his earlier false front as a student scant years older than her, much of his personality is unchanged. He’s just as kind and solicitous as before, just as smart and clever and handsome. Her conversations with him are the highlights of her day, not only for the news that they occasionally bring, but also for the proximity to him.

One winter afternoon, scarcely a fortnight until the solstice and her birthday, they sit in the library, talking about inconsequential nothings when everything changes. One minute, they’re discussing the latest regarding the Northgate Poet, and the next, his lips press gently against hers, his right hand cradling her face. Almost before she can fully process what has happened, he withdraws, a contrite expression on his face.

“Forgive me, Beatrice,” he mutters before abruptly departing. She stares at the doorway, hand raised to her lips, trying to understand what just happened.

_He kissed me,_ she thinks to herself, walking around the confines of the library, trying to settle her thoughts. Not that it was unpleasant (far from it, brief as it was), nor was it unwanted. Had circumstances been different, had she not been dependent on his family for protection and Cat not gods knew where, she might have welcomed the kiss. Now, however, it just served as another complication.

She had moved back to the couch as was furiously sketching in an attempt to distract herself when the door opened. Half expecting to see Amadou, she is surprised to see his aunt instead.

“Ah, Beatrice, there you are,” she says, smiling kindly. “I was looking for you.”

“Regarding what, Maestra?” Bee asks politely, although she’s fairly sure what this is about. Nothing happens in the house without its mistress being aware of it.

“It’s regarding my nephew and his relationship with you, my dear,” she begins, and Bee feels her heart sink down to somewhere below her stomach.

Later, Bee reflects, sitting by the window in her bedchamber and mulling over the revelations Amadou’s aunt had given her, she would had preferred the older woman been less kind. Less kind in revealing that Amadou’s Roman heritage comes from the cursed Valerri Massalan clan and that he also claims descent from a rich Fula line. Less kind in informing Bee that her relationship with Amadou, due to his circumstances and her poor background, could go no further. Just, in general, less kind in destroying Bee’s dreams as much as the saboteurs had destroyed the airship the night of Cat’s marriage.

Despite what others may think, Bee has always been practical. As much as she likes Amadou and as much as he likes her, their relationship was doomed before it started. It just hurts to finally have that fact out in the open and admit it to herself.

Resting her head on her knees, Bee resists the urge to cry. Cat would know how to respond to such damnable kindness and make the best out of this situation. Bee’s not sure how much of this she can handle by herself without somebody she can trust without breaking.

That night, long past supper, she’s wandering through the frozen gardens, listening to wind whistling through the bare tree branches when Amadou finds her by the yew bushes.

“I know my aunt spoke with you,” he begins before she has the opportunity to greet him. “About my family, about my duty to them, and our situation. But I love you, Beatrice. You’re beautiful and clever and kind, and I’ve fallen madly in love with you. I can’t bear to be without you.”

He takes her hands in his, and she doesn’t protest, too stunned by what she’s hearing. She knew that Amadou fancied her, but love? Did he really mean that? She couldn’t think straight, both from the memory of his earlier kiss and the passion of his current words.

“I can’t offer you much, Beatrice, but I can offer you this: one year, a flower marriage with me. I have property on the outskirts of the city where you could live without fear; I can provide whatever you need, and after the year we’ll part.” He continues, but Bee barely can hear him over the rushing in her ears. What had he just said to her?

She doesn’t respond, trying to come to terms with what he just said. A flower marriage? Did he think her so without honor, without any trace of respectability that she would accept so easily? Did he truly think that little of her? Her heart aches, and not for the first time she wishes Tanit would answer her prayers and give Cat back to her so that she has somebody at her side to lend her support.

“A flower marriage?” Bee finally repeats for clarification. Maybe she heard wrong. Maybe this isn’t what she thinks it is.

“Yes,” he replies, and she stares at him, completely robbed of words for several long seconds while she tries to gather her thoughts. “Lasting one year. I can easily make the arrangements.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Bee demands, anger overcoming her shock. “That I, a young woman parted from her family, would debase myself with a flower marriage, only to be discarded like a piece of trash once my use is over? That I would, overcome with feelings, accept this _vile_ , insulting proposition? Or did you simply assume, because I am a Phonecian,” she spits out the hated word, “woman, I would gladly come to your bed and allow you to dictate the terms?”

Amadou looks at her, a shocked expression on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but she’s not quite done yet. “Ask yourself, were I a good Roman girl, or even a good Celtic or Afric girl, would you have offered me flower marriage? Or is it only because I’m Kana’ani you thought I would be your own personal whore?” She steps closer to him, and glares at him. “You can take that offer of yours, Maester Barry, and shove it in the manure pile where it belongs.”

He closes his mouth, swallows once, before stammering out, “P-please forgive me for the offense, Beatrice. I truly did not mean to insult you like this. I-I was simply overwhelmed by my feelings for you, by how much I care for you that I did not think before opening my mouth.”

“No, you didn’t,” Bee answers coldly, projecting calm when otherwise she wants to cry. Before Amadou can bring forth more apologies, she cuts him off, like any good fencer would. “Do not speak to me, for I will certainly never speak to you again unless required to do so by the obligations of polite society. Good night, Maester Barry.”

With that, Bee turns around and returns to her room, back straight and face a mask of serene fury. It’s not until she’s reached the sanctuary of her borrowed chambers that she crumbles on the floor and cries. Cries because Amadou and the revelation of how he sees her, no matter how smitten he might be. Cries because she has to face all of this alone, and it’s not fair because Cat should be beside her, threatening to beat Amadou for the insult to her honor. Cries because nothing is as it should be and she misses her family, even that little brat Astraea, and just wants to go home. But she can’t, and she’s trapped here with nobody but herself.

That night, she dreams of Cat on a horse, racing towards a ruined temple dedicated to Jupiter, mage house soldiers gaining behind her. Only for Cat does she go to Amadou the next day and tells him that Cat will be at the Temple of Taranis Jupiter on December 15th, and that she most certainly be in danger. Only for Cat does she swallow her bruised pride and broken heart and listen to Amadou accept as a way to repair things between them.

And once more, there is nothing to do but sit and wait. She’s so tired of waiting, she could vomit. It’s only the thought of being shortly reunited with Cat that keeps her from screaming in frustration.

Days slowly pass, and her birthday draws closer, and still Amadou and Cat are absent. She’s sitting in the sitting room with the twins and their aunt one day, furious with the world and the circumstances that have forced her here. She hears the door open and several persons enter the room. At the sound of the twins crying Amadou’s name, her frown deepens and she does her best to ignore him. It’s not until she hears a familiar laugh that she looks up.

Cat. Cat is there, next to Amadou with a handsome young man distinctly not her husband at her side. She stares at them dumbly for a brief second before reacting.

“Cat,” she shrieks, not bothering with propriety, and lunging off the couch, sketchbook forgotten in her excitement and relief at seeing her cousin after so many weeks of worry.

Throwing her arms around Cat and holding her tightly like she might vanish suddenly, Bee closes her eyes and resists the urge to cry. The Mage Houses can still be after her, and Cat still married. Everything between her and Amadou can be fouled and rotten and heart wrenching. She left her family without a second glance and can most likely never rejoin the Barahal clan after what she’s done. There’s that strange man accompanying Cat who looks to be all sorts of trouble waiting to happen.

None of that matters now.

She and Cat are together again, and between the two of them, they can conquer anything.


End file.
